Mr. Carroll’s tones conveyed active disapproval of his daughter’s foolhardy exploit.
“I—I——” began Patsy, then became silent.
“Well, this is not the time to discuss that side of the affair,” her father continued. “There’s a secret room or cubby-hole, I don’t know which, behind the picture. Rosita is in there and can’t get out. You attended to her arms, I judge. That’s the reason for those frenzied howls. Undoubtedly she’s insane. You’ve had a very narrow escape.”
“How could she get behind the picture without the use of her arms?” broke in Bee. “There’s a secret lever to the picture, of course.”
“She may have been able to work it with her foot,” surmised Mr. Carroll. “Again, she may have purposely left the door open. There may be another way out of the place besides this one. She can’t take it as long as the rope holds. When the door closed, the rope caught. It’s tough, but then, the door must have closed with a good deal of force or it could never have shut on the rope. She’s trying to break it and can’t. That’s why she’s in such a rage. We’ve got her, but we must act quickly. I hate to leave you folks alone here. Still, I must go for help. I can bring half a dozen of my black boys here in twenty minutes. If I could be sure she’d stay as she is now until I came back——”
Mr. Carroll paused, uncertain where his strongest duty lay.
“I will go for the help, señor,” suddenly announced a soft voice.
Absorbed in contemplation of the problem which confronted them, no one of the little company had heard the noiseless approach down the gallery of a black-haired, bare-footed girl. She had come within a few feet of the group when her musical tones fell upon their amazed ears.
“Dolores!” exclaimed Patsy and sprang forward with extended hands. “How came you here?”
Immediately Mab, Bee and Nellie gathered around the girl with little astonished cries.